


Reunion

by PikaPikaPikaPikachu



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cute, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fluff, Implied Ship, Oneshot, Post-Timeskip, Pre-timeskip (mentioned), Reunions, Reuniting, Sad, Soft Hubert von Vestra, no beta we die like Glenn, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23448841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PikaPikaPikaPikachu/pseuds/PikaPikaPikaPikachu
Summary: Five years of waiting for what was essentially a ghost finally bore fruit. No amount of fantasizing or planning could've predicted how Hubert would react.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth & Hubert von Vestra, My Unit | Byleth/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 4
Kudos: 124





	Reunion

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd so there might be some errors. Hopefully, ya'll still enjoy!

Hubert scrunched up his nose disdainfully at the bitterly cold draft that blew into the Goddess Tower, pushing the cloak away from his towering, shadowed form. Sunlight had begun to spill over the horizon, flooding deep into the valleys and seeping into the bricks of Garreg Mach’s walls. Birds sang obnoxiously from their innumerable nests, and in the distance, Hubert could hear the metal clangs of armor against wooden swords, much to his annoyance. He hissed softly as the light rose, caressing his hand with its warm, affectionate, and oh so loving glow, something that he put a quick stop to by taking his hand away and hiding it beneath his cloak, which he then drew tightly around himself. Turning away from the annoyance, Hubert sighed, setting his lips in a thin, pale line.  
  
Five years.  
  
Five years of waiting, and for what?  
  
Hubert was a logical man, one who knew all-too-well that his professor had most likely perished the day the Immaculate One had descended wrathfully from the Heavens, striking down the Ashen Demon into a bottomless chasm, before ripping monstrously through their shaken troops, protecting the lies which it held so dear. A bitter chuckle passed over Hubert’s dry, cracking lips as he remembered how fear had gripped his chest, raw and all-consuming, before madly dashing ahead, incinerating the enemies before him, if only for one more glimpse of his beloved professor. Alas, he had been too late. She was gone, and no matter how many knights he slaughtered, or how hard he searched, she wasn’t coming back.  
  
A chilled mist seized his heart, congealing thickly like the familiar lump in his throat. Painful pinpricks poised at the edge of his vision, piercing through him in the biting cold, before quickly being wiped away by the back of Hubert’s pale, marked wrist.  
  
He’d sooner die than allow himself to weep like a child.  
  
“Five more minutes,” he promised himself aloud, his gaze falling down to the cracked brick flooring, engrossing himself in the somber atmosphere provided by the structure.  
  
His lips curled up in a self-deprecating smirk as he bit carefully into the inside of his lips, trying to ignore the tugging pain in his chest. How many times had he repeated that to himself? It had to have been at least four times, and still, he persisted, waiting for what was essentially a ghost.  
  
“The dead keep no promises,” he mused, tilting his head back to look at the staircase.  
  
A part of him hoped he’d see her, familiar minty locks framing her face, faint scars across her cheek, and that always-neutral expression. Another part of him pleaded for him to just go, run back to defending Edelgard’s room before she awoke alone and felt pity for him yet again. He’d long since lost count of the number of mornings he’d spend waiting in the Goddess Tower, reflecting on all the gruesome ways his former professor could’ve passed, what her final thoughts could’ve been, and not least of all, how he could’ve prevented it all.  
  
Hubert scoffed and mentally kicked himself at his own ridiculous thoughts.  
  
Quietly, he heard footsteps approaching, moving slowly up the stairs. Ever on the cautious side, Hubert stepped into a small alcove, drawing a dagger from his pocket and holding it at chest level, ready to stab into whomever thought they could sneak up on him. As if sensing what he had done, the noises stopped at the top of the stairs, indicating whomever it was was still there. That’s when he heard it.  
  
“Hello?” a familiar voice spoke softly.  
  
Hubert’s heart leapt into his throat, and he felt himself go weak in the knees. He remained in place, although shaking, unbelieving of what he’d heard.  
The familiar figure walked around the stairs, exploring the room, stopping a mere few feet away, mint green eyes locking with Hubert’s own dull jade ones. The mint eyes widened in surprise, supple lips forming into a small, shocked ‘o.’ All the air had escaped Hubert’s lungs, and he felt the world spinning around him as he struggled to understand.  
  
“Hubert?” Byleth asked, reaching out a cautious hand.  
  
Without thinking, Hubert thrust the blade in her direction. Luckily, being as nimble as she was, she managed to duck away in time. Byleth, he noted, looked exactly the same as she had five years prior, not a hair out of place or any new bruises marring her creamy, pale skin, and, it seemed, her reflexes had stayed sharp as ever. Hubert’s eyes scanned over her body, searching for any imperfections or mistakes that could’ve lent credence to the idea of her being a ghost or illusion or, worst of all, one who slithered in the dark. A despicable face stealer.  
  
Bile rose in his throat, and his gut twisted violently, forcing him to maintain an offensive stance, eyes narrowed in scrutiny at the visage of someone he’d wished every night to see one more time.  
  
“Hubert,” Byleth repeated, slower, “Put down the dagger.”  
  
“Oh?” he hummed contemplatively, “And why should I? I have no proof you’re not an enemy, let alone that you’re truly even my professor.”  
  
Blood rushed deafeningly through his ears, and he felt a bolt of confidence as he straightened up, taking a step toward her, baring and gritting his teeth, “My professor died the day that forsaken dragon appeared. Remove the disguise or die where you stand!”  
  
Byleth’s lips pulled back into a very slight frown, and she made no moves to comply. She deftly stepped aside as Hubert sloppily thrust his dagger at her, momentarily blinded by a drive to avenge, though what he was trying to avenge he couldn’t say.  
  
“Even if it is truly you,” he breathed sharply, barely missing her exposed midriff, anxiously yet eagerly awaiting a hit, “Why shouldn’t I kill you? You abandoned us! You abandoned the Empire, you abandoned Lady Edelgard, and you abandoned--”  
  
The dagger flew from Hubert’s hand, although he hardly had time to register it as he was suddenly jolted backward with the force of Byleth launching herself at him. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, bracing for a fall that never came. The only sounds in the room were his own heavy breathing and the brief sound of the dagger hitting the stone floor. Apprehension coursing through his veins, he cautiously peeked open an eye, staring down at Byleth, who’d wrapped her arms tightly around him, resting her head on his chest as if the two were simply lovers sharing a comfortable embrace.  
  
All the fight flooded from him instantly, and he felt his arms go limp at his sides. Warmth pooled at the edges of his vision, and he carefully set his head atop Byleth’s, deeply inhaling her familiar scent, very nearly failing in choking back the sob it brought him.  
  
“You…” Hubert gulped dryly, arms snaking slowly and carefully around Byleth, as if she were made of glass, “You abandoned me, professor.”  
  
“I know,” Byleth murmured softly, “I’m sorry.”  
  
With that, Hubert’s resolve shattered. Scalding hot tears ran down, over the deep bags under his eyes and further still past his sunken cheeks, landing finally in Byleth’s hair, not that she seemed to mind in the slightest. He held her ever-so-slightly tighter, tilting his head down to hide his face within her locks, muttering some half-formed apology. Hubert flinched as Byleth moved a hand up, rubbing his back carefully, coaxing even more tears from his tired and weakened form.  
  
“Do you understand,” he gasped in between sobs, tilting his head back up, struggling to get enough air to speak, “what you’ve done? Do you even care…?”  
  
“I do,” she muttered, looking up at him, carefully brushing away some of his tears with her thumb, resting her hand on his cool cheek, “It wasn’t my choice.”  
  
“But you can do anything,” he said in a small voice, feeling rather childish, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he looked away sheepishly, “You survived that fall. You came back. Why didn’t you return sooner?”  
  
“I was,” Byleth hesitated, unsure of herself, “I believe I was asleep.”  
  
Surprising them both, Hubert chuckled, wiping the rest of his tears and gently nudging her hand away, “I feel as though I am, too. Any moment now, I’ll awaken, and you’ll be gone again. Life is… rather cruel that way.”  
  
He shut his eyes contemplatively, flinching when he felt the warmth of her hand return to his cheek. Rather than pulling away, he leaned into her touch. It all felt so real, and he so desperately wanted it to be.  
  
“I’m here, Hubert,” she whispered, voice heavy with more determination and conviction than he’d ever heard her express, “I’m not going anywhere. Not again. I promise.”  
  
“The dead keep no promises,” Hubert sighed morosely, barely opening his eyes to glimpse at her, “But you aren’t dead, are you?”  
  
Byleth shook her head, earning another somber chuckle from him. He pulled her flush against his chest, placing a timid kiss to the top of her head, before letting go entirely, staring out the window with a calm expression, as if all his worries had floated away. In the distance, the birds’ chirping mingled with the sounds of training, becoming a sweet cacophony of noise, a small victory tune that echoed in his mind.  
  
“May I ask a favor?” Byleth inquired, interrupting the peaceful quiet.  
  
Hubert turned to her, leaning cautiously against the windowsill, cloak no longer covering his body, allowing her to see how much he’d grown, before he smirked slightly and teased, “Of course, professor. Though I cannot guarantee a positive response.”  
  
Byleth smiled faintly. There he was again. Hubert jolted in surprise, committing the sight to memory, waiting anxiously for her to continue speaking, hoping it’d explain the odd expression, or, rather, tell him how to make it return. He stifled a chuckle at his schoolboyish thoughts.  
  
“Everything is so very,” she wavered, uncertain how to put it at first, “different. Would you mind accompanying me, today? We could catch up, perhaps over tea?”  
  
He clicked his tongue, head lolling back fondly at the memories of the both of them enjoying tea before the war. So casual, so carefree.  
  
“You know I prefer coffee, professor. But,” he paused, his smirk turning into a gentle smile, “just this once, I’ll make an exception. Now then, Lady Edelgard and your Black Eagles will want to see you. You have no idea how happy this will make them.”  
  
“And you?” Byleth tilted her head, smiling coyly.  
  
Hubert’s cheeks warmed slightly, and he shook his head, still smiling, “Ah, there you go again. Yes, professor. Me as well.”  
  
Approaching, he politely held out an arm, which she held reverently, gracing him with another small smile, before returning to neutrality. However brief, Hubert found his chest warming at the sight of the smile. If it was all a dream, Hubert never wanted to awaken.


End file.
